


If You Will Come All The Way Down With Me

by nihilBliss



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Breathplay, Bulges (Homestuck), Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Choking, Collars, Creampie, Dom Karkat, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Eridan Ampora, Nook Fingering (Homestuck), Nooks (Homestuck), Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Hatred, Sub Eridan Ampora, Subspace, Vaginal Sex, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilBliss/pseuds/nihilBliss
Summary: As much as Eridan craved subspace, it took a lot to get them there, wallowing in the demeaning thoughts that plagued them. Karkat had to balance praise and punishment to keep them floating at the right depth between ego and self-pity. But when he pulled it off and got Eridan where they needed to be, it paid off. And Karkat was very, very good at it.





	If You Will Come All The Way Down With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheepiisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepiisms/gifts).

Torturing Eridan was too easy. Their fins went wide when they got close to coming. All Karkat had to do was pull away when it happened, and he could edge Eridan for as long as they wanted.

Speaking of, Karkat pulled his hands away from Eridan's crotch and wiped them clean on a towel, ignoring Eridan's squeals of frustration.

Eridan lay on his back, hands and legs in the air in his best impression of a barkbeast waiting to get their belly rubbed. Around their neck, they wore a gray leather collar with a tag that said, in block print, Fishie. That was the pet name Karkat had given them for when the two played. They'd accepted the name and the collar as generous gifts from their owner, their Sir. And whenever they put those gifts on and became Karkat's pet, they felt a hole in their soul close up.

“Shh, good Fishie,” said Karkat, rubbing Eridan’s soft stomach.

“Please, Kar,” whined Eridan. “Please, I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t come.”

Karkat put a finger to their lips, thumb caressing their grubscars.

“That didn’t sound like ‘Sir’ to me,” he said. “What was rule 2 again?”

“When I am in my collar, I am only to address Kar as sir or master,” they said. “I’m sorry, master.”

Karkat stroked Eridan’s hair. They were so much more attractive like this, with not a scowl but need on their face. Prying that veneer away, exposing the Eridan whose need for acceptance and need for degradation couldn’t be uncoiled from each other, was something of a wonder.

“Fishie’s going to have to be punished,” Karkat said, tone soft. He walked back between Eridan’s raised legs and slipped three fingers into their nook. For the umpteenth time that night, Eridan chirped and writhed; their nook, worn out, begged for rest or release. Deep within, their globes throbbed, overfull. They only ached worse when Karkat wrapped his fingers around Eridan's bulge.

There it was, that meek little high-pitched whine that Karkat was looking for. For as much as Eridan craved subspace, it took a lot to get them there, wallowing in the demeaning thoughts that plagued them. Karkat had to balance praise and punishment to keep them floating at the right depth between ego and self-pity. But when he pulled it off and got Eridan where they needed to be, it paid off. And Karkat was very, very good at it.

“You’re such a needy little Fishie,” he said. “Look what a wet mess you are. Are you even coherent enough to be sorry?”

Eridan yelped as Karkat brushed their tender shame globes. Their legs quivered and ached; they wanted to put them down, but Sir said not to, and Sir got what Sir wanted. They drooled and quivered.

“Master… s-sorry,” they groaned. “So sorry… please… let me come, please sir…”

If their friends saw Eridan like this, they wouldn’t be able to believe it. And Karkat was sure he was the only person alive who knew how to read the signposts to get them there.

“But you need to be punished,” said Karkat. “If I make you come, that isn’t punishment, is it, Fishie?”

Eridan's fins flared, and Karkat froze, still touching Eridan's parts. They didn't move. Sir chose when they came, not them. And Sir said they needed to be punished. But that doesn't stop the whimpering or the moaning.

"How about this: give me somewhere to put my hands, and I'll let you use yours," said Karkat. His eyes meet Eridan's, and he was understood. Eridan craned their neck back, giving Karkat easier access, and whimpered their assent. To this, Karkat smiled. He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around Eridan’s throat, gentle. His fingers settled on Eridan’s gills, and Karkat put just enough pressure to establish that he was there, in control - not enough to choke.

“Master… may I touch my bulge?”

They didn’t have to ask. He had already given them permission. But down here, when Eridan was at their most open, they couldn’t act without asking. Karkat dripped red down his thighs.

“You may,” he said. Eridan grasped their bulge desperately and rubbed, almost screaming. It was pitiful, pathetic. Fuck, was it hot. That Karkat had brought Eridan to this shameless place made it so, so much hotter.

Eridan’s screams weren’t all pleasure. All that edging made their globes ache like hell, and every wriggle and every stroke of their bulge tugged at the swollen glands. The only way forward to relief was through pain, and besides, Master had told them to do this.

As Eridan pawed at their bulge, Karkat squeezed. Between his pressing fingers, Eridan’s neck felt so thin and delicate. Its softness yielded, as if Karkat’s hands were meant to be there, as if Eridan was hatched to be choked. Their throat rattled; their body needed more air, lots of air, to keep them jerking off as desperately as they were, but Sir would not allow it. Their head swam. Everything felt so intense. Every stroke threw embers and sparks into their globes They were close, closer.

“Master… may I please…”

“What was that?” Karkat asked, squeezing harder as Eridan tried to answer.

“I’m gonna… oh fuck, please,” Eridan wheezed.

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” Karkat said. “Use your words, Fishie.”

“Mast… hrkh… Sirmayipleasecome!”

They spat the words out all at once, speeding toward the point of no return. If Sir said no, they might not have the wherewithal to stop. That hesitance, that wondering whether or not they’d be allowed to go over, resonated.

“Go ahead and come, Fishie,” said Karkat.

Oh, sweet relief. Eridan cranked their bulge as hard as they could manage, pushing themself into wheezing, screaming release. Every nerve in their body lit up, a show of fireworks and electric lights and screaming pressure release valves. It scorched and overwhelmed every inch of them. Their grubscars, their gills, their fins, every spot prickled with climatic bliss as they painted themself violet.

And then, Karkat shoved his bright red bulge into Eridan’s spasming nook, stretching it wide and rubbing their globes from sweet release into tickling, agonizing ecstasy. They writhed there, helpless, outright screaming. Did they hate the sensation? Did they love it? Hard to say. But Sir wanted it to happen, so it was happening, and all of that ambiguity dissolved as Karkat groaned.

“Good Fishie,” he said. “You’re such a good pet.”

Karkat had one hand still compressing Eridan’s throat, but the other had wandered to their shoulder, counterbalance to every rough thrust into Eridan’s sloppy nook.

“Master,” Eridan sobbed. “It’s so much.”

“Just a little more,” said Karkat. “You’re being so good for me.”

Eridan bit their lip, choking back the noises, eyes rolling back in their head. Their hips involuntarily bucked against their master. Karkat grunted as his thrusts grew more and more frantic. Then, with a high-pitched whine, he hilted, hips against hips, and came. Hot red poured into Eridan’s cool nook, and the warmth spread through their body.

“Good Fishie,” said Karkat as his climax subsided. He caressed Eridan’s ear fins, tender as could be. “Such a good little Fishie.”

Eridan said nothing. Words were more than their thinkpan could do. But between their master’s praise and that warmth spreading out from their core, it didn’t seem to matter. Eridan belonged here, on their back. Here, they were valued - loved, even. That was plenty.

Karkat pulled his bulge out and wiped it on the towel, watching the red-and-violet slurry drip from Eridan’s gaping nook. They were a mess, but most importantly, they were _ his _ mess. He wiped Eridan’s sweaty hair from their brow and planted a kiss on their forehead.

“How is my little Fishie doing?”

Eridan nodded, smiling vacantly. Ah, nonverbal subspace. Not the first time and perfectly workable. Karkat pulled a box of wet-wipes from the bedside stand and wiped Eridan’s stomach and nook clean. It took a few, and all the while, Eridan made these little contented noises, staring vacantly at their loving master. When Karkat had cleaned most of the mess away, he slipped his arms under Eridan and carried them, bridal-style, to the couch. He set Eridan’s head on his lap and covered them both with a pre-placed blanket, putting one of Eridan’s history documentaries up on the screen. There they stayed until the sun rose, with Eridan half-watching, half-snoozing, and Karkat tracing the lines of Eridan’s gills.

There was, after all, no kinder reward for a good pet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to my editor, LumenInFusco. Check her out here or on Twitter.


End file.
